


A Terrifying Realization

by Ashacrash



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashacrash/pseuds/Ashacrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have been roomates for a while now. Long enough for Sherlock to notice his obvious attraction to the man. One thing's for certain, Sherlock is absolutely, 100% gay. Now, how he'll go about telling John might be the greatest puzzle he's ever attempted to solve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Terrifying Realization

Sherlock Holmes entered the dorm and tossed his bag on the bed. He was blushing, but John Watson, his roommate, didn't see, since he was busy with his homework. Sherlock clenched his fists, nervous, and took a deep breath.  


“Hey John. Beautiful day, isn't it? Do we have milk? I’m starving and I could eat a whole bar of chocolate. I’m gay. The sky is so blue today, perhaps I should go out for a walk and I’m sorry for not telling before.” he said, all at once, and was turning away to leave the dorm again.  


John looked up from his Maths homework in disbelief. He must have misheard Sherlock. "W...Wait, Sherlock!" Sherlock stopped but didn't turn around. "What did...I...I must've misheard...You're happy, are you?"  


"Oh, don't be so ignorant, John," Sherlock muttered, turning around, "I said I'm gay. Homosexual, attracted to men, a puff, if that's what you'd prefer. I just thought it's something that you ought to know." John sat silently, his face burning a light shade of red.  


"And you're sure about this..."  


"When have I ever been wrong?" John stood up, his face a shade darker.  


"And you planned on telling me this NOW?" he said through clenched teeth, "After we've been roommates for almost an entire semester, after you've been my tutor for..for weeks, NOW you decide to tell me?" Sherlock stood silently, clenching his fists.  


"I didn't expect you to..." Sherlock began, but was suddenly interrupted by a crimson faced John. A scowl made an uncharacteristic appearance on his usually peaceful face.  


"And how exactly DID you expect me to react, Sherlock?" John resisted the urge to punch something, "Did you just expect me to pat you on the back, give you a hug, and ask you for help with my maths like old times?"  


"And how would this be any different from any of those times, John, I'm still the same Sherlock Holmes who you met at the beginning of the bloody year," Sherlock said, wincing at John's response.  


"Same old Sher...The SAME OLD Sherlock? How am I supposed to fall asleep across from someone who..." Sherlock looked down, attempting to hide any form of emotional response. John felt only a small amount pity through his flash of anger, "Sher...I didn't mean...What I meant to say is...I need some air." He had to get out of the dorm room as soon as possible. Any place would do so long as it was lacking one Sherlock Holmes. He stormed towards the door, slightly shoving Sherlock in the process who remained motionless. John slammed the door behind him, never looking back.

\-----------------------------------------------

The first place John could even consider as any sort of escape was only a short walking distance from Baker Hall. It was a convenient rendezvous for any student able to pass for an older bloke: Hudson's Brewery. The owner, Mrs. Hudson, who knew every student on campus, usually knew when a student was underage. But when young John Watson had bounded in, mercilessly slamming the door behind him, she knew that now was the time to make an exception. John was never an easily troubled student, so Mrs. Hudson didn't question it when John walked up asking for the strongest item on the menu...And to put it on his tab.  


"Now, John," Mrs. Hudson said, pouring him a not exactly alcoholic beverage, "What seems to be troubling you? And where's the ever so dashing Sherlock Holmes this evening? You two are rarely seen apart." John scoffed at this, grabbing the drink and gulping it down as fast as an Irish sailor. He chuckled lightly.  


"That...is EXACTLY the reason why I am here, Mrs. Hudson," John trailed off, looking down at his nearly empty glass. Mrs. Hudson filled up another mug of her finest root beer and placed it on the table. Before she could ask what was wrong, John spoke up suddenly, "I mean, who does he think he is, telling me that he's into men out of nowhere and not expecting me to react strongly? He thinks just because he's Sherlock fucking Holmes he can tell people important details anytime he wishes!" Mrs. Hudson smiled. For a while now she had noticed the looks that Sherlock had given whenever he thought that John hadn't been looking. It was about time that he'd told not only John the truth, but himself as well.  


"The drinks are on the house tonight dear...IF you go and talk to him after you've calmed down," Mrs. Hudson winked before walking away to tend to her other customers.  


John turned away from the bar, shaking his head slightly. He didn't want to think about Sherlock at the moment, sitting on his bed, face in his hands, feeling sad and sorry for himself... He shook his head again, attempting to clear it of his melancholy roommate. He knew that Mrs. Hudson was right, but he didn't want her to be. Looking around, he locked eyes with a rather lovely woman from across the room. She smiled slightly. John looked around him to find no one other than him sitting where her gaze fell. He looked 

back to find her confidently sauntering towards one of the empty seats next to him.  
John smiled awkwardly as she took a seat, noticing her obvious beauty immediately. "Hello, there," John managed to say, extending a hand towards the woman, "John Hamish Watson, at your service."  


"Irene," the woman said, taking his hand, "Irene Adler. I'm a second year here..." She really was lovely. Sherlock probably would have scoffed at her physical perfection, deducing something nasty about her personal life, ultimately leading to Sherlock being smacked and the girl running of, never to be seen again...  


"Hello? John, are you alright?" Irene pushed on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. John tried to grin, attempting to forget about Sherlock once more, "I can go if I'm distracting you."  


"N..No!" John stammered, "No, of course you aren't. If anything is distracting me, it would be how absolutely lovely you are." He kissed her hand that he was still holding. Sherlock would have whispered in his ear to stop being overly sentimental. 'A kiss on the hand is too brotherly. Do you want her to come home with you tonight, or would you rather she told you how great of a friend you are and how she's been eyeing a bloke across the pub all evening?'  


John smiled, snapping out of it by another gentle shove by Ms. Adler on the arm. John blinked, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he started, looking back at a confused Irene, "I've just...I've got a lot on my mind."  


Irene smiled, squeezing his hand before getting up to leave, "Another time then, Mr. Watson." She slowly walked near the pub's exit, her hips swinging in a very flirtatious manner. John sat motionless for a moment, confused at what had just occurred. A gorgeous woman had just flirted with him and he had ignored it. But, why?  


As much as he attempted to think about Irene Adler or any other woman in the pub, he couldn't bring himself to pry his mind away from Sherlock and what he had said. For a moment, he felt bad for the way he had stormed out on his out-of-the-closet roommate. All he had tried to do was tell John...Tell John that he'd been hiding secrets since the day that they had met. John had told Sherlock every little secret, got everything out in the open to avoid just this. Besides, it's not like being gay was a bad thing. What could possibly be so wonky about being gay? And then it hit him.  


What if Sherlock had been hiding his sexuality because he had...Feelings for John. Feelings that John didn't know how to interpret. He began to become frustrated with the idea of Sherlock not just having these feelings, but hiding this for so long. He felt muddled, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. 'That bastard,' John thought to himself, 'How many times has he fantasized about me, looked at me in my sleep, touched me? How many bloody times has that wanker stared at me as I obliviously sat there, working on my maths? Who the hell would agree to tutor the stubborn John Watson without ulterior motives? BASTARD!' John punched the bar, causing the empty root beer mugs to clink loudly.  


It felt surprisingly good to hit something. The feeling of being in control of what was happening was what John preferred, and Sherlock having feelings for him was not something that he could manipulate or change. Next to no one could change the mind of Sherlock Holmes, not even John, so how was he supposed to reciprocate anything without Sherlock getting his damn way as usual? John felt another wave of anger surge through his body. He punched the bar again, attracting more attention from the patrons. Not only had Sherlock stolen John's thoughts and a potential date, he stole any sort of control, and that drove John absolutely mad. The bitterness swelled in his stomach, increasing in power, contradicting his facade of control as the anger overtook him.  


By the time that the anger had festered, the amount of rage that had inevitably filled John Hamish Watson was unsurmounted. Even Mrs. Hudson didn't dare try to stop him as he stamped out of the pub, his face glowing a deep red.

\----------------------

John all but kicked in the door to room 221B. Sherlock looked up from his hands, shocked by John's sudden return. There he was, exactly how John had imagined him, looking pitiable and melancholy. Sherlock bit his lip not knowing quite what to say, "John, I..."  


"DON'T YOU JOHN I ME!" John barked, taking Sherlock aback, "Do you even understand what you've DONE?! I just had a beautiful woman walk up to me, completely interested, and you know what I did? I practically TURNED HER DOWN because all I could think about the whole bloody time was YOU!" John took in a deep breath, attempting to hone in his anger.  


Sherlock stood suddenly, looking down at John with the angriest look John had never hoped to see in his life. "And you think that I wanted this, John?" Sherlock asked, his arms locked straight down at his sides, "Do you think that I didn't try to get rid of these feelings, that I didn't try to logically explain them?" He moved, never breaking his gaze as he moved away from the bed to the other side of the room, "I tried, damn it, John, I tried, and I can't! I've never felt anything for anyone this strongly before, not even myself. And I am quite sorry at the moment to say that I just might be in love with the likes of an abrasive bastard such as yourself!" John had heard enough. He screamed as he grabbed Sherlock's arms, pinning him against the wall.  


The two boys stood, speechless and out of breath, their faces close enough to feel each other gasping for air. John looked up into Sherlock's piercing, steel-grey eyes. Those eyes that John had come to learn so well, those eyes that he had learned to trust, betrayed Sherlock's anger-filled face. Before John had any time to consider his next move, him and Sherlock were snogging.

\-----------------------------------------------

It all happened so quickly. Sherlock pushed forward, pressing his lips against John's. Without thinking, John kissed back, surprised at his own willingness, enjoying the taste of Sherlock's soft, wet lips. Sherlock's tongue lightly grazed John's lower lip, nearly causing him to moan. Sherlock pulled away softly, but John craved more. He ran his hand through Sherlock's dark locks, pulling him in for another kiss. Sherlock pushed him forward just to slam John back onto the cool, stone wall. John smirked, placing both his hands onto Sherlock's chest. There was no way he was losing any form of control or dominance in this situation. This was one of the few areas where he excelled against his virgin counterpart.  


John shoved Sherlock over to the bed, pushing him down forcefully. John quickly removed his own shirt, followed by nearly crawling onto Sherlock, demanding more snogging as he began to unbutton Sherlock's inconveniently placed trousers. "So," John said in between kisses, "Are you a boxer or a brief man?" He pulled Sherlock's pants off completely, revealing dark purple boxer briefs. "Best of both worlds, I see," John chuckled, trailing a row of kisses from Sherlock's neck and down his chest.  
"John," Sherlock gasped for air, as John smiled mischeviously and sunk lower, removing Sherlock's pants, "John, are you sure this is really what you wa..." Sherlock cut himself off, gasping in ecstasy as John lightly ran his tongue across his balls and slowly made his way up to the slit of his pulsating cock. John looked up to catch Sherlock's perfect eyes dilating ever so slightly as he ran his tongue in circles around the head, stroking the balls simultaneously. Sherlock moaned, begging John to stop teasing him so mercilessly.  


John relished the taste of precum before making the first, slow stroke down his cock. He felt Sherlock's body tense up slightly, willing John to continue. John grabbed the base of Sherlock's cock with his thumb and forefinger, moving up and down the shaft. He allowed his mouth to join his hand, giving Sherlock ample reason to gasp and run his long fingers through John's hair. He practically begged John to let him come, but he refused Sherlock's pleas for release, pulling away just as Sherlock began to enter any sort of climax.  


John pulled Sherlock off of the bed, tearing his shirt as he unceremoniously pulled it off and forced him to bend over. Sherlock all but gripped the bed to keep his limp body up. John hastily pulled down his trousers and pants, revealing his hardened cock. John looked around for something to use. "I have lube in the cupboard next to the bed!" Sherlock gasped, his voice laced with desperation, "I'll explain later, just use it!" he moaned before John could ask. John, against his usual nature, did not question Sherlock, quickly grabbing the lube and slicking it on his leaking cock, mixing lube and precum.  


John positioned himself before inserting himself into Sherlock. Both moaned as John slowly pushed himself further into him. "John..." Sherlock breathed, "John, it hurts..."  


"Shh..It will only hurt for a little while. Trust me," John whispered soothingly as he began to pull out and push back in. Sherlock began moaning more frequently, pushing John closer to the edge. "Fuck," John breathed as he grabbed onto Sherlock's tensed waist, sliding in and out, harder and faster, until both parties began letting out more than audible cries of pleasure. Sherlock slumped onto the bed, desperate to come.  


"John," Sherlock gasped, "Come inside of me," John complied almost immediately as he came. Sherlock cried out in ecstasy. John pulled out, wanting to feel what had just happened, as if he needed tangible proof to convince himself that this wasn't some sort of dream. He pushed his thumb into Sherlock, feeling the product of his admitted attraction to his roommate. 

John grabbed Sherlock, pushing him into sitting position. John wanted to taste Sherlock. He made circles around the head with his tongue, finally sliding his mouth up and down Sherlock's pulsating shaft until he was finally granted release. John relished the taste of Sherlock's come, suddenly wanting to know everything about him from his favorite book to his odd obsession with 400 odd tobacco leaves. John quickly swallowed, teasing his cock a bit more before finally falling onto the bed. Sherlock followed suit, collapsing into a sexually satisfied heap on top of John.

\-----------------------------------------------

"You know," John began, climbing in bed next to Sherlock and forcing him into a cuddly spoon, giving him a quick kiss on the neck, "I always knew you were well endowed in the cerebral area, but I never would've suspected it to be true of one of the more...well, vital organs, in my opinion." Sherlock smirked coyly, rustling into a more cozy position against John's bare chest.  


"John..."  


"Hmm?"  


"I can't seem to deduce why you were so angry earlier. Did I say something wrong?"  


John chuckled, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck, "No, Sherlock, you didn't say anything wrong. I just wanted it to be."  


"How do you mean?"  


"I dunno," John sighed, "I was scared, I suppose..." Sherlock turned to face his newfound lover.  


"John Watson, the only man that doesn't run away at the mere sight of me, scared?" John smiled, taking Sherlock's socially awkward comment as a compliment.  


"Of course I was scared. A gorgeous man decides to tell you he has feelings for you and you're so shocked when you comes to realize that you feel the same way? It's a terrifying realization," Sherlock began to speak, but John put a finger over his mouth, "A terrifying realization that I'm glad you forced me to make." Sherlock grinned as John leaned in to give him one final kiss on the lips before watching him close his eyes and start to fall asleep. He pushed himself into John's arms, sighing contentedly until his sighs were replaced by innocent snores. John kissed him on the forehead.  


Of all the things John Hamish Watson had imagined learning and retaining from his first year at university, he had never thought that some of the less academic ideas would prove to be the best and most important: The sky is so blue, Mrs. Hudson can be a sneaky bitch when she needs to be, and he was undeniably in love with one Sherlock Holmes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so any sort of constructive criticism would be fantastic. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this! I truly appreciate it!


End file.
